


Hearts Beat The Same

by spideywhiteys



Series: 365 Days of Naruto AUs [44]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Fuuinjutsu Mishap, Gen, Itachi needs medical care and a nap, Open ended, POV Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Itachi’s illness, alternate dimension via sealing accident, ambiguous timeline, sakura is very confused about the fact that Itachi isn’t acting more murdery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29412858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideywhiteys/pseuds/spideywhiteys
Summary: She’s wanted to pound his face in at first sight, has wanted to crush that stupidly familiar, hauntingly pretty face beneath her fists. He is the reason for Sasuke’s pain. He is the reason their team fell apart.OrSakura and Itachi have only each other to find a way home, if Itachi can even make it that long.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Itachi
Series: 365 Days of Naruto AUs [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086938
Kudos: 27





	Hearts Beat The Same

**Author's Note:**

> Day 44: Dimension Hop AU / Itachi + Sakura

“You should let me heal you.”

She doesn’t turn to face him, busying herself with the chopping of firewood. Great, sweeping motions that relay her tension, the clench and coil of powerful muscles only mildly soothed by the repetitive task. Physical labor comes too easy; it leaves room for thoughts she doesn’t wish to dwell on.

For a long moment, he doesn’t reply. He’s remained perfectly quiet and civil on his side of the camp, the picture of relaxation where she is not — where she is a thunderstorm wrapped in skin, typhoons threatening to burst free and wreak havoc. She’s wanted to pound his face in at first sight, has wanted to crush that stupidly familiar, hauntingly pretty face beneath her fists. He is the reason for Sasuke’s pain. He is the reason their team fell apart. 

She thinks a lot about the sounds Sasuke used to make in his sleep, the sounds he would never admit to making and she would never admit to hearing. She regrets that. She wonders if maybe, just maybe, had she reached out a little more —

But those are just regrets and daydreams and wishes that won’t come true. Sasuke has never been easily swayed, he’s always been tenacious and ruled by his heart. He abandons logic so easily, and she’s the one who cries for him but acts as the brain. Team 7 could have been great, she knows it. He knows it, tucked away in some slimy lair or wandering the wild with his new team. They all know it.

Itachi coughs again, wet and painful. He doesn’t wince, she knows this even with her gaze pointed away from him. He’s allergic to showing pain, the same way Sasuke is allergic to admitting he’s in it. She hates herself for even thinking it — hates the thought the moment it crosses her mind — but they are so alike, these two brothers. She feels abject fear at the concept of Uchiha Itachi, but the man sitting respectfully on the other side of their make-shift camp doesn’t give off a smidge of killing intent. He’s wary, maybe, the way she is wary, because they aren’t friends or allies and the one thing between them is Sasuke. He’s also….polite. Odd. Blunt and forthcoming and brilliant — so fucking brilliant it makes Sakura sick, makes her feel inadequate. 

She doesn’t know where they are.

The only relief is that neither does he, so they are forced to work together.

It’s no place either of them are familiar with; the land is vast, colored in fields of scarlet grass, towering gold trees with eerie black leaves. The bushes come in shades of violet, yellow or metallic gold — some with flowers that bloom in greens or blues, ripe teals and the hues of the ocean. The ground is boggy, the air wet, the land is split by frequent rushes of water; from the smallest stream to the most thunderous rivers. They are not on earth, or at least not on any part of their earth that she knows.

Sakura prides herself on being smart, because when it comes to her intellect she is leagues above the average person. It’s the one thing that made her feel special when she was paper skin and bird bones. Now she has fists of diamond, muscles that flex and bulge, skin turned rough and calloused under the weight of hard work and sunlight. Sakura isn’t a little girl anymore. 

(She wishes someone would tell her heart to get the memo.)

Itachi coughs again, and that serves as an answer just as well as words. 

She slams the rudimentary axe into the last piece of wood, splintering it rather violently into two halves. With a tense set to her jaw, she twirls the weapon and swings it into the ground as a placeholder. 

Those dark eyes peer at her unfailingly, too piercing for their own good despite being so...unfocused. Sakura reminds herself that this man slaughtered his own family. This man hurt Sasuke the way no one should ever be hurt. Let Uchiha Itachi rot and suffer for all she cares — is what she’d like to do, but she needs him. 

And that’s a hard pill to swallow.

She doesn’t know enough about fuuinjutsu. Whatever seal sent them here is too complex for her to take apart and reverse. She’d be sailing blind if she attempted to get back on her own, and she doesn’t think Sasuke would ever forgive her if it wasn’t  _ him _ who dealt the killing blow on Itachi. 

Doesn’t mean she’s happy about having to heal him.

“Listen. I don’t like you. But I need you. Whatever you’re sick with, it’s only being made worse by the humidity and dampness of this area.” She approaches him and he lets her, maybe because he’s too weak or maybe because he’s smarter than her — smart enough to have already come to her conclusion hours ago while she was stewing. “You’re only going to become dead weight if this continues. I’m not going to do anything else aside from heal you, so don’t—”

Itachi blinks very slowly and he doesn’t so much as twitch his lips, but Sakura realizes with dawning horror that she can  _ read  _ him, the same way she painstakingly learned to read Sasuke.

“You’re not worried.” She sighs, collapsing on the damp log beside him, far closer to  _ Uchiha Itachi _ than she ever thought she’d be outside of battle. “I should be offended.”

“Don’t be.” Itachi says, “You’re very skilled, Sakura-san.”

She grits her teeth and begins the diagnostic jutsu. There he goes again, being exactly the opposite of what she expected a murderous traitor to be like. She purses her lips and tries to keep her scathing retorts and burning questions to herself. It’s not for her, anything he can give.

She furrows her brow.

Those dark eyes zero in on her expressions like they’re works of art in a museum, or like a scientist peering down at a dissected frog. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah, you.” She mutters. “Your lungs are a mess.” 

Without much thought, she runs her chakra green hands over the rest of him, mapping out an array of issues that all point to —

“Cystic Fibrosis.” They say at the same time.

Sakura narrows her eyes at him. “You knew?”

“I’ve been living with this for quite some time, Sakura-san.” He replies, never giving more and always leaving her —

She drops the jutsu and clenches her fists ominously. He doesn’t look down at them like he already knows she’s not going to hit him. And isn’t that infuriating?

“You’re going to die.”

Itachi inclines his head, dark eyes brighter than they were a few moments ago; obsidian pools among a bed of too-long lashes and lined with marks of stress and illness. He’s so tired, so drained, and she sees it all in the veneer of  _ nothing _ he pastes over his face. 

He’s so beautiful, it hurts.

“I know.”

Sakura swallows tightly, the furrow in her brow reappearing. She doesn’t understand him. She wants to go home. 

Her hands flare with medical ninjutsu and she brings them back to his chest. “I’m beginning the treatment. This won’t cure it. It only gives you more time.”

This time — 

This time Itachi does smile, just a tiny thing you wouldn’t see if you weren’t looking. Or if you didn’t know an Uchiha. She sees it plain as day even though she doesn’t want to, doesn’t like the way it tangles her insides and lodges rocks in her chest. 

“Thank you.” He murmurs, a whisper among the breeze that floats through the treetops. “That’s all I need.”

Sakura remains quiet, focused, too aware of a murderer’s heart under her palms. It beats the same as everyone else’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Might....add to this later...hm


End file.
